Like mother, like son?

My son made lunch for me yesterday.  Not a monumental act normally.  But he volunteered to make it.  Today he made breafast.  A full on, hot, cooked breakfast.  Again, not monumental, but totally unsolicited.  He asked if he could make a steamed pudding for dessert this evening.  The traditional burnt sugar type.  Lord help me the child is barely twelve.  Many amongst us would claim this is 'great'!  And I definitely dont disagree.  But I am raising a young man, and I am slightly worried.

I love that he loves to cook, and given the size and height he is currently, he will definitely need to learn how to cook to keep up with the monstrous appetite I am anticipating will hit at any moment now.  He is the most ordered of my children and prefers his life to be very structured.  He sticks close to those he knows and loves, especially me.  He is pretty reserved but does have a wicked sense of humour.  He is an excellent and very caring big brother to his little brother, the baby of our whanau.  And while he fights non-stop with his three sisters (which drives me nuts), nothing makes me smile more than to see him rolling on the ground laughing hysterically with them.  Most of the time I let him get on with his life, he's twelve!

But I have fears.  Some solo mums agonise (I googled) over the young men they are raising.  Appropriate role models, boy issues, sports stuff, man stuff, the inside scoop on the male gender stuff.  How would I know about that?!  I'm a 'dumb girl', as my son would say.  Sure, my son has great men around him.  Awesome teachers, an awesome big brother, awesome uncles.  Great men, great role models.  That is supposed to be enough, by all measures on Google and the two books I read on the topic.  And to be fair, my son still has his father, who he sees most school holidays for a week.  I cant tell his story here, but in brief my children have a great father that they love very much. 

One of the most persistent themes I have come across on my solo mum journey is the need for consistency and constancy (I know that's not a word) in his world.  If I want my son to be strong, then I have to model strong.  If I want him to be caring, then its me that has to model that.  I have to be the absolute epitome of everything that I want my son - and indeed all my children to become.  Am I scared?  Hell yes. Friggn petrified.   Am I capable of doing it.   Hell yes!  The rock.  That's me.  It has to be!  I know many solo women who have raised great men.  My sister.  My friends.  My aunties.  My personal role models.  My children's grandmother raised a great man too.  I hope I can do as good a job!